


Dog-Eat-Dog

by Ambroise



Series: Like Cat And Dog [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cat Hannibal Lecter, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dog Will Graham, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Sassy Will Graham, Smitten Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambroise/pseuds/Ambroise
Summary: Will the dog is on his way to find Hannibal the cat interesting.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Like Cat And Dog [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829503
Comments: 14
Kudos: 191





	Dog-Eat-Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's always interesting to write from sassy Will's perspective.

Part III.

There was something wrong with Will's housemate. He himself had been labeled as having “behavioral issues”, but he was nowhere near as weird as The Cat. At least Will didn't enjoy torturing other animals or worse, staring at them.

All the cats Will had ever interacted with had been curious, but The Cat was something else entirely. Will had a hard time pretending he didn't notice being constantly watched. And when The Cat wasn't busy stalking him, he was killing something.

In the few weeks Will had spent in his new home, he had received no less than 28 corpses, counting the annoying canary who had been killed the night before.

Will had never seen a cat giving something he had hunted to another animal before. Frankly, it was a little worrying. Was The Cat leaving him death threats?

Human No. 7 had congratulated him more than once on the dead animals he regularly found near the doghouse. Little did he know Will didn't spend his free time hunting rodents. But at least he wasn't being accused of killing the neighborhood's pets.

Will was nothing if not observant. He wouldn't deserve to be called a hunting dog if he wasn't. So he figured out his housemate was responsible for the death of the neighbors' pets pretty quickly. He had certainly not expected to cross paths with a feline serial killer one day, but nothing really surprised him anymore. He just didn't find The Cat that interesting.

Thinking of the devil... The Cat entered the house through the pet door. The moonlight shining through the windows gave his silky coat a silvery blue sheen.

In a nutshell, The Cat was beautiful but deadly.

He had probably just killed some animal. But at least he wasn't bringing him the corpse this time. Will had enough trouble sleeping without having to save The Cat's neck in the middle of the night again.

Will didn't understand The Cat. He didn't understand why he kept on receiving dead bodies from him. But except from this little detail, The Cat had been nothing but polite to him. He even dropped food on the floor for him when he was perched on the kitchen counter. So even if being watched all the time was unnerving, Will appreciated the company.

In fact, he appreciated the company so much that he had licked The Cat's face during their first meeting simply because he had felt overjoyed about not being alone in a crate anymore; he still felt mortified about the whole incident.

So even if The Cat had been foolish to steal another hunter's prey, even if he might have been trying to pin the canary's murder on him, Will couldn't have let this weird but courteous housemate of his be killed by some self-important trespasser.

As usual, overthinking was keeping him awake at night.

A few hours ago, Human No. 7 had finally bought him a dog bed; it was comfortable and located on his favorite spot near the fireplace, but it didn't make finding sleep any easier for him. He changed position once again. Besides, feeling The Cat's stare wasn't helping him relax.

Suddenly, thunder roared and lightning flashed.

Will felt a pang of fear crawl under his skin. All his muscles tensed, his body began shaking uncontrollably and his breathing became more and more labored. He couldn't help whimpering.

The Cat responded to his noises of distress with a worried meow and ran so fast to him that he was at his side before Will could even blink.

The thunder roared again.

Fear prevented Will from thinking straight. He couldn't stand thunder and lightning ever since he had been left outside in a thunderstorm as a puppy. Later, he had even been abandoned by Human No. 3 because of his “inconvenient” fear of thunderstorms.

The Cat gently put his paw on Will's nose.

They hadn't interacted with each other since the night before, but Will was less wary of The Cat now that he had seen him in a position of weakness: it made him seem less threatening. Maybe it was why Will felt comforted by this paw on his nose. In any case, he didn't want The Cat to stop touching him.

Probably sensing that his touch was welcome, The Cat rubbed his head against Will's.

The thunder roared again, and yet Will's shaking had stopped and his breathing was becoming more and more regular.

He hadn't expected The Cat to join him in his bed, but he had no objections with this development. His companion made himself comfortable and curled up into a ball against his side. Then, despite the thunderstorm, Will felt himself slowly relax.

He fell asleep to the sound of Hannibal's purr.

Part IV.

As a hunting dog who had been abandoned more than once for supposedly “not doing his job properly”—even though it hadn't been his fault his previous owners wouldn't be able to shoot straight to save their lives—, Will had seen a lot of bad hunters. But none as bad as Human No. 7. It was frankly embarrassing to watch.

To be fair, Human No. 7 hadn't been a hunter for long. But Will still thought it was unsafe to let him wave a rifle around when he wasn't even able to load it properly. There was something seriously wrong with this country's regulations on firearms.

Besides, it was obvious Human No. 7 didn't even like hunting: he was only doing it to look cool in front of his obnoxious friends. Honestly, they were so pompous and generally annoying that Will wouldn't be terribly upset if they were to be trampled to death by some angry stag during one of their hunting trips. Actually, Will would like it to happen right this moment.

The worst hunters in history wouldn't stop complaining about the dogs “not even being able to track a boar”, as if it was his and his companions of misfortune's fault if their owners were stupid enough to choose a hunting location based on its “pastoral atmosphere”. They would sooner find a unicorn than a boar in this area. But apparently, waterfowl hunting in the Chesapeake Bay was too mainstream for these pretentious halfwits.

Suddenly, Will saw movement in the plain out of the corner of his eye.

Since he didn't want the incompetent hunters to get excited over nothing and then scold him for not finding what they were looking for, he stealthily got closer to where the tall grass moved a few seconds ago.

What was Hannibal doing here?

Will was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question: Hannibal had played stowaway in order to stalk him during the hunting trip. Even though they had gotten closer to each other ever since the thunderstorm incident and had both been sleeping in Will's bed every night for the past week, Hannibal hadn't let go of his stalking habits. And Will was getting used to it now that he knew Hannibal didn't wish him any harm.

Hannibal greeted him with a soft meow to which Will responded with a sigh. Why was this damn cat always getting himself in trouble? Besides, he seemed far too happy to see Will considering that they had been seperated only for a few hours.

At least Will now knew why Hannibal's scent had been stronger than usual in the car. For his defence, the car always smelled like Hannibal since he spent so much time there sleeping on the expensive leather seats. He was pretty snobbish, even for a cat.

It was risky for Hannibal to be here with the other dogs around. Indeed, hunting dogs were usually well-behaved, but these ones belonged to Human No. 7's friends, so their attitude was as bad as their owners'. From what Will had seen, they tended to be extremely violent, especially towards small animals.

Will knew what he had to do: he was going to lead these mad dogs far away from Hannibal.

He turned his back to Hannibal, ready to bolt to the other end of the plain in order to pretend he had seen a prey. However, before he could do so, Francis the Weimaraner—the worst of the lot—came running their way. Will's muscles stiffened, and he wanted to go and tackle the other dog down really badly in order to prevent him from approaching Hannibal, but he contained himself because he had to keep on hiding his companion with his body.

Francis began to bark murderously.

Change of plan.

Indeed, judging by his belligerent body language, not only had Francis actually seen Hannibal, but he very much intended to rip him apart.

Will forced himself to stay still because he considered it his duty to serve as a bodyguard for Hannibal. Besides, Francis didn't strike him as quick-witted, and so he was pretty sure his new plan would work. So he was patiently waiting for the collision to happen.

It still hurt when it finally happened. But Will couldn't retaliate too soon and too harshly if he wanted to pose as the victim. Francis would be punished for attacking another dog and disrupting the hunt, and the commotion would allow Hannibal to escape unnoticed.

Will whimpered as if Francis had gravely injured him. He checked that all eyes were on them before throwing himself on the ground. He was still carefully shielding Hannibal with his body, which seemed to infuriate Francis even more.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed Hannibal preparing to attack. He sould have known this damn cat wouldn't let him deal with the situation. He was too proud to back off from a fight.

Then a bullet hit the ground between Will and Hannibal.

Which one of these assholes had almost killed them? Luckily, all these morons were terrible shooters. The good thing was that, since they were now all busy shouting at each other and Hannibal—who was not used to hearing gunshots—had fled, Will was free to take his frustration out on Francis, who didn't see it coming since he was focused on the humans.

Will first bit his left foreleg viciously in order to make him lose balance, then he grabbed him by the collar to bring him to the ground, leaving him no time to react. Francis tried to bite his face off in retaliation, but his movements were unplanned and imprecise, and so he didn't even manage to scratch him. He was obviously not used to fighting against a foe his own size.

It was fine by Will: he just wanted to humiliate Francis and teach him a lesson, not kill him in an epic fight, or else he would end up in trouble. The tall grass offered him perfect cover, but he still had to be quick. It was all the more important that he wanted to go and find Hannibal as soon as possible.

With the efficiency that characterized him, Will used his grip on Francis's collar to repeatedly bash his head against a rock until he was dizzy but not unconscious.

That was what Will called justice.

After checking that the worst hunters in history were still about to kill each other—hopefully, Human No. 7 was so mad at his obnoxious friends that he would break ties with them or better yet, shoot them—, Will discreetly fled the future crime scene. Then he tracked Hannibal's scent to a grove. He found his companion sitting at the base of tree, looking as calm and beautiful as ever.

He was welcomed by a soft meow and a look of awe.

Will was so glad to find Hannibal safe and sound that he couldn't help but lick his face over and over again, and he didn't feel one bit ashamed about it.

It had only taken his weird and troublesome mate almost getting killed twice for Will to finally find him interesting.


End file.
